


Mikhail

by JustDrinkTea



Series: Original Works [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Drabble, Fantasy, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-23 22:41:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9684707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustDrinkTea/pseuds/JustDrinkTea
Summary: He is returned, and he is remembered.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A very short test scene I did in a very short amount of time, and probably should have read over before posting.
> 
> Not sure if I'll do anything more with these characters!

The voices in Mikhail’s head had stopped as soon as the door had shut behind him. The silence, after months of loud busyness, was deafening. 

It was that silence that now beckoned him forward. 

The runes carved into the stone bowl pulsed— the blue light emitting a magic that waved throughout the room, for a moment. The voices whispered as it passed through Mikhail, sending a chill through his body. 

Mikhail glanced down again at Kraz’s body beneath his hand. Kraz was breathing still— though only barely— and the blood flowing from his wounded side had not yet slowed. It seemed that all that could be done for him now had already been done. This thought brought with it a haunting sort of comfort, but also yet another terror to linger in the back of Mikhail’s thoughts. 

Another pulse of light, another chorus of whispers; this time, they spoke as one. “The basin remembers you.”

A shaky breath passed through Mikhail’s lips as he rose from Kraz’s side, and began to limp forward. 

The basin stood in the center of the room, atop a short stone pillar, on a raised platform. Only three stairs led to the top of the platform, but even that proved to be almost too much. With each step, a harsh and sharp pain ran up his left leg— originating from the sensitive part of his heel, where he ha been struck. 

Mikhail leaned heavily against the lip of the bowl when he finally reached the top. His breath came with difficulty, and tears streaked through the blood and dirt on his cheeks. 

Though it should have been cold, the bowl beneath his hands was warm to the touch. The water held inside was clear, and still. 

A voice, singular, rang through Mikhail’s mind. “You’ve returned.” It was the voice of a woman— loud, but warm. “Drink.”

Mikhail glanced over his shoulder at Kraz’s figure, still unmoving. His own hands shook. 

“Drink,” the voice urged him again.

Mikhail’s gaze stayed fixed on his friend for a moment longer. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, turning back to face the bowl. He shifted his weight to his right foot, letting go of the bowl as he did so. Hands cupped, Mikhail dipped them into the cool, shallow water, and raised them to his lips. 

He did not hesitate as he drank.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for checking it out! Please take a look at my other works if you enjoyed this one.  
> \-----  
> Find me @[Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/firemandamen) and [tumblr](http://www.justdrinktea.tumblr.com)!


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